by Jason Parent
Jordan hung his head. “I’m sorry.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I didn’t realize you had pet names for viruses.”
Clara groaned and grabbed the arms of her chair a little tighter. If that devilishly handsome buffoon continued to get under her skin, she was as apt to tear him apart as she was to tear off his clothes. She took in a longer breath and released a longer sigh. Logic, she told herself. Only animals allow their emotions to triumph.
“You have scientific names for your flowers, correct?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“And you also have nicknames or common names for them, right?”
“Yes. But plants are—”
“I am sure it is not hard for you to imagine what a pain in the ass it would be to have to constantly refer to my examination subject as Mollivirus sibericum. The time spent saying and writing that elongated name is time wasted. So, we have simply resorted to calling her Molli.”
Jordan stroked the salt-and-pepper stubble that rounded out his prominent chin. “Okay. That makes sense, I suppose…even if you did just call it a ‘her’.”
Infuriating man. Clara huffed. She bet he had a pet name for his penis. Was naming Molli really so different? Mon Dieu, I just equated a microorganism to a penis. She huffed some more. “Look, we are getting a bit far afield here. The facts, as I understand them, are such: One, I’ve been exposed to a virus – well, it’s not a virus, actually – to a single-celled organism with what appears to have hundreds of genes, where the common virus causing the flu has only eleven and some far deadlier diseases have less. The potential for Molli to be a cold-blooded killer was better than hitting it big on a slot machine, the risk of it causing other harm better than hitting on a red or black bet at the roulette table. We’ve already seen the monstrous impact Molli has had on one human body.”
“Two, actually.”
“What?” Clara’s heart leaped off starting blocks and took off at a sprint in her chest. Stay calm, rational. She tried to soothe her nerves. You’re a scientist, damn it. She met Jordan’s stare. “When I blacked out, Sergei Kobozev and I were trapped inside a clean room.” As frightening as that was, she forced her mind back into that clean room and analyzed the data, trying to see what she might have been missing.
And she did remember. A strange man had helped her.
She rubbed her forehead. “The man with the black cross,” she mumbled. Her mind struggled to recall the other details of his face.
“No, not him.” Jordan’s voice reeled her back into the here and now. “That man was, however, responsible for the explosion—”
“What explosion?”
“He set off several bombs in the parking garage. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Whatever that crazy bastard was after, I’m just thankful he didn’t harm you either, which is more than I can say for those assholes from ASAP.” Jordan flexed his fingers and scowled.
He was by no means an imposing figure, more apt to sew up his own cardigan than to rip it off. His pants are permanently pleated, for fuck’s sake. Beneath his clothes, he had muscle mass only slightly greater than that of a prepubescent boy, despite how her daydreams had portrayed him.
Still, she had to admit that his anger at her apparent mistreatment was touching. “It seems I missed much when I was out cold. Maybe you should start from the beginning.”
Jordan began to fidget. “D-D-Doc…er…D-Doctor Werniewski could explain all that much better than I could,” he stuttered. “He should be back any minute now, and—”
“Jordan,” she said softly. “Please. Just tell me.”
He cracked his knuckles one at a time while he considered her request. His shoulders drooped. “Please understand, Clara. This sort of scientific analysis falls way outside my area of expertise. Dr. Werniewski’s the clinical microbiologist, Dr. Thomas an excellent pathologist. And then there’s yourself. All of you are far more qualified to discuss your…condition. I’m just a botanist, and if I’m being honest, more lucky than good at that.”
She went to pat his hand but he recoiled and straightened. “It’s okay, Jordan. I know I was exposed. If I weren’t in my room and in complete control of my molecules, I would have assumed I was infected. Given your hesitancy to discuss it with me, I assume I must be.” She paused, thought long and hard about her next question and whether or not she truly wanted an answer to it, then asked it before she could come to a conclusion on the matter. “Why did ASAP want to harm me?”
“You’re…. I’m sorry, Clara, but you’re…. How can I say this?”
“Easy. Just say it.”
“I’m not qualified to—”
“Mon Dieu, Jordan. Just say it already. I’m infected?”
“Your…your assumption is correct.” He looked everywhere around the room, focusing on everything except her, as his finger rapped on the desk. “Wait…. ‘Infected’ might be the wrong word. The virus—”
“It’s not a virus.”
“The vir…. Molli is inside you.” He leaned closer to her and placed his hands over hers.
She snapped her hands away.
“It-It-It’s not what you think,” he stammered. “Molli is inside you, but according to Dr. Werniewski, you’re not contagious. The entity is a blood-borne pathogen. I think that’s what he called it. While you were out, he took skin, mucus, and…other samples and found absolutely no abnormalities. He said that other than your blood, you are completely germ free, like freakishly so, as if your body had eradicated every trace of harmful bacteria.”
“But my blood—”
“He hasn’t actually tested your blood yet, felt it a bit too intrusive without your consent. But initial biometric readings from his scanner show evidence of infection and a white blood cell count that was through the roof. But everything seems normal, even your white blood cell count, now.”
“That doesn’t sound right. I have MS, a disease that attacks the autoimmune system. My white blood cell count, even at its most consistent rate, has never been normal. The scan must be wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Clara. I wish I knew more. You’ve been on near-constant surveillance since the clean room was compromised except when I snuck out to bring you some flowers. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke. The ASAP assholes wanted to shoot you and incinerate your body. If it wasn’t for the quick action of Dr. Werniewski’s assistant, they just might have. Werniewski was called in to assess the breach. His assistant literally threw herself in front of your chair, I’m told. Like you, she’s a very brave woman. I think she said her name is—”
“Anju.” Clara smiled. “I will have to thank her when I see her next.”
“She fell on top of you. Can you believe that? She’s the reason why we know you’re safe to touch. All her biometrics came back negative.” Jordan shuddered. “Not like the others.”
“What others? Kobozev is dead – I saw his head explode – and I thought you said the terrorist jerk wasn’t infected?”
“The others have been incinerated,” said Dr. Oleg Werniewski as he pushed open the door to Clara’s room without knocking. “Sergei Kobozev, unfortunately, remains unaccounted for.”
Jordan must not have closed the door properly. Clara wondered how long her colleague had been standing outside, listening.
Dr. Werniewski was an abrasive man. Though they were colleagues working the same project, Clara avoided him whenever possible lest she be entrapped by one of his self-gratifying tales of his own opulent grandeur. Physically, he was equally repugnant, the type of man who always stood a few inches closer than he should, whose eyes had a tendency to wander. Clara wondered if she disliked him more for being lecherous around her associates or for never being so toward her. Not that she wanted him to be. It simply reinforced her low self-esteem to know that a standardless pervert like Werniewski wouldn’t even give her so much as a second glance.
She wondered
how Anju put up with what must have been constant sexual harassment. Just imagining his potbelly rubbing up against Anju’s back, sweat pouring off his bald head as he grunted and wheezed through stained teeth, made Clara want to gag. Yet every time she saw Anju, the young assistant was smiling.
Thoughts like that are how rumors start, she warned herself, preventing the line of thought from continuing into the realm of pure, unwarranted speculation. As if summoned by the thought of her name, Anju pushed past the doctor and entered the room.
“Excuse me, Dr. Werniewski,” she said, short of breath. “This is heavy.” She was lugging some sort of mechanical device that Clara found vaguely familiar but had a difficult time placing. Anju plopped it on Clara’s desk.
“Is that—” Clara began.
“From the clean room, yes,” Anju replied. Her warm smile was contagious as she greeted Jordan and Clara. “I just made two of these for ASAP, and I figured it could not hurt to have one of our own.”
Clara nodded. “I heard I have you to thank for saving my life.”
Anju blushed and looked away. “It was nothing.”
Dr. Werniewski cleared his throat then spoke louder than was necessary. “That’s not all you have to thank Anju for. My little lab-assistant genius was able to reconfigure the clean-room scanner into a portable version.”
“It was not hard, really,” Anju said. “I just disconnected it from its wall mount then modified its directional scanning capabilities from a stationary, cone-shaped scan radius to a three-hundred-sixty-degree rotating scan—”
“Bottom line,” Dr. Werniewski interrupted, “she made the scanner travel ready. In addition to having learned invaluable laboratory skills and knowledge of the biological sciences from yours truly, she also acquired some technical savvy along the way.” He stroked his assistant’s arm.
Anju stiffened, but her body relaxed as soon as the microbiologist removed his stubby fingers.
“It’s as I always say: the most brilliant minds deserve the most brilliant assistants,” Dr. Werniewski said.
Clara rolled her eyes and set her jaw. “We are all familiar with just how brilliant you are, Dr. Werniewski, but if you’d be so kind, I’d really like to know what you’ve learned from your unconsented-to tests of my body.”
“Desperate times call for—”
“Just,” she started sharply then held herself in check, “give it to me straight.”
“Anju,” he said, “would you do the honors?”
Anju returned to the device on Clara’s desk. It resembled a battery-powered camping lantern without a handle, though Clara knew its lighting and power sources were much more complex. It looked as though it might weigh a ton, and apparently Jordan thought so too since he offered his assistance as Anju pushed the scanner to the center of the desk.
“In a moment,” Dr. Werniewski began, “Anju will begin a biometrical scan of this room, though the reach of the scan will probably go well beyond the confines of these four walls. The brightness of the scan may cause temporary to permanent injury to your eyes. Everyone, please close your eyes and keep them closed until I say to open them. Anju?”
Clara did not close her eyes. She watched as Anju slid a thumb drive into a USB port on the scanner then typed in something at its base. The large canister illuminated at its center. The light quickly grew in strength, and Anju closed her eyes. Then Clara did the same.
“Initiating scan for biological contamination,” said the voice of a familiar computerized woman. It was the same voice from the sterilization chamber and the clean-room safety protocols. It spoke without inflection and always reminded her of a GPS her parents had purchased when she was a kid.
She wondered if computerized voices were reused across electronic platforms as the inside of her eyelids went from black to pink. A wave of light and heat spread over the room with a muffled boom followed by a static-like crackle.
“Scan completed,” the computer said. Clara opened her eyes, not waiting for Dr. Werniewski’s permission.
“You may now open…” he started then realized everyone already had, ending his sentence with, “Oh.”
A screen above the scanner’s light source displayed an image resembling an x-ray of the entire room. Everything and everyone inside it was cast in black, white, and silver. “Unknown organism detected.” The machine beeped and whirred. “Unknown organism detected.”
“Twice?” Dr. Werniewski asked, his voice squeaking. His mouth hung open, and the blood drained from his face.
Clara held her breath, knowing something was wrong even if she didn’t fully understand what.
“No,” Anju said. “That should not have happened twice.”
The machine fell silent. So did the room. After a few seconds that passed like minutes, the machine said, “Locations of organism contained and identified in red.”
“Locations?” Anju asked. “As in more than one?”
Everyone’s eyes fixed upon the screen. The image of Clara sitting in her wheelchair turned red. A smaller image, sitting at the far end of her desk, also turned red.
“The flowers?” she asked.
“Air quality normal,” the scanner chirped. “No other contaminants detected.”
All heads turned simultaneously toward Jordan. Anju shrugged. Dr. Werniewski was glowering.
“Relax!” Jordan’s face flushed, with a combination of anger and embarrassment, Clara assumed.
“You introduced an unknown, untested organism into a nonlaboratory environment, potentially endangering the lives of everyone in this facility, for what?” Dr. Werniewski’s tone was low and quiet, as if he were reining in a verbal assault. “To impress a lady?”
Jordan’s fists rolled into balls as his face darkened to a color just shy of purple. “You heard the scanner. The organism is contained, and it has been fully tested. We’re not incompetent. That ‘unknown organism’ has already undergone a multitude of tests and research among the six members of my team. All results have proven it to be completely harmless to humans. The ‘organism’ your scanner is picking up primarily consists of chlorophyll bonded with some kind of enzyme we suspect is responsible for the flower’s spectacular growth and survival rate. It’s not like anything we’ve ever seen before, granted, but I don’t think I can overstate its importance to science. If we can just extract the enzyme from the chlorophyll—”
“I don’t think you want to do that,” Clara said.
His scowl softened, but his hands remained fists. “What? Do you think this enzyme is somehow related to your released biological agent, which, let me remind you, had nothing to do with my team?”
“We know too little—” Dr. Werniewski began.
“Oh, come on!” Jordan blurted. “We are dealing with two different things here, and you all know it. What chemical or biological entity, organism, enzyme, et cetera, can any of you point to that can stimulate plant growth and cause mutations in human DNA in the manner in which we have been exposed to here?”
Clara shrugged. “With over five thousand known viruses—”
“It’s insane, and you have no research to support any of your conclusions. If, for the sake of argument, there were some connection to your organism, it has bonded with normal plant cells and evolved in such a way that has rendered it absolutely harmless.”
Anju grinned. “Maybe it likes plants just fine. Maybe it just does not like humans.”
Jordan’s eyes lit up with what some would call passion, others madness. Clara wondered if her eyes had lit up the same way when she had seen Molli under her scope. “Well again, for the sake of argument, if your Molli is in my plants, it certainly is a boon to their existence. If we could extract it and introduce it into other plants, the world would be healthy and green, lush as a jungle. The way this enzyme works with the chlorophyll, takes in sunlight, absorbs carbon dioxide, and produces oxygen…. We’r
e talking about a potential fast-growing food source with established air-purification capabilities, not to mention a potential Nobel Prize. This enzyme’s penchant for cleaning air is exponentially compounded by its rapid growth.” He pointed at the lilies. “Just look at those beauties. They’ve probably grown an inch or two since they’ve been in that vase, with little water and no sunlight.”
Clara stared at the flowers. They do seem bigger.
“Back in the lab,” Jordan continued, “some are as big as sunflowers. Can you believe that? The implications for our inner cities, counteracting the effects of exhaust, smog, other forms of air pollution….” Jordan trailed off. He stared at his audience, his eyes pleading.
When no one said anything, he sighed deeply, apparently giving up. He turned to Clara. “Anyway, when they have grown to twice their current size tomorrow, I thought maybe you might see them and smile despite all that you’re going through.”
That did make Clara smile. That might just have been the stupidest, nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. Excepting Anju’s saving my life. She wondered what she’d done to deserve this sudden appearance of people who cared for her, people she hardly knew.
Dr. Werniewski coughed, immediately extinguishing any tenderness Jordan’s thoughtfulness might have brought to their circumstances. “With the exception of Dr. Phillips’s flowers,” he said with no hint of being impressed, “using her original creation, Anju and I conducted this scan of your room, the clean room, and everywhere between four times with consistent results. In the clean room, biological agents were found in the air vent and on the, uh, the remains of the infected ASAP personnel, all of which were collected and incinerated. The rooms have been cleared. However, whatever remains of Mr. Kobozev—”
“I remember!” Clara shouted. “Sergei Kobozev…he…he mutated somehow, and…he did something to that guard. I’m not sure what, but I saw his skin, his entire body, transform and…qu’est que c’est…insert? Yes, his fingers stretched thin, and he inserted them into the ASAP guard like—”
“Yes.” Dr. Werniewski nodded, his lips pressed flat. “And in doing so, Kobozev transmuted his condition to that guard, whose remains have since been destroyed. All contaminated personnel and inventory have been carefully confiscated and incinerated, and no remnants of Molli remain except for vault-protected samples and—”
